


Are You Trying to Make Me Cry (Are You Trying to Make Me Lose It?)

by MelisandreStark



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: A little introspective, Angst, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, a healthy friendship, if fascism can be called a happy ending, part 76 of me doing rots aus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27337984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelisandreStark/pseuds/MelisandreStark
Summary: Anakin's lost his padawan, he's lost the council's trust and he's lost himself in the war. Of all the people he wants to reflect on this with, Luminara Unduli is the last on the list.But trauma has a funny way of bringing people together, and her confusing relationship with his Master only accelerates a new ending to the Clone Wars for them both.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Luminara Unduli, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Luminara Unduli
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41





	Are You Trying to Make Me Cry (Are You Trying to Make Me Lose It?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JediMasterBailey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JediMasterBailey/gifts).



> i've been working on this on and off for more than six months under the working title 'anakin fucks shit up au' so i hope it's not as shitty as that would imply oxo

“I can’t say I thought I’d see you here.”

Anakin isn’t unfamiliar with this particular drinking establishment—of all that he’s been to on Coruscant this is a favourite, mostly because no one tends to ask any questions. Since Ahsoka left the Order he’s a little ashamed to admit that he’s become somewhat of a regular here when he’s not off world. That said, he’s not here frequently enough for it to be public knowledge so seeing this familiar cloaked figure at his regular booth isn’t at all what he’s expecting.

Finding an overworked and exasperated Obi-Wan trailing after him to drag him back to the temple isn’t uncommon, really—Rex has also chased after him quite a few times (not that he goes out _that_ much—but sometimes a guy likes to drink away from his monastic order, alright?) but that fact that one Luminara Unduli has pre-empted his arrival is a genuine shock.

She’s cloaked, but he could tell it’s her from the tattoos that grace her chin a mile away so almost cautiously slips into the booth opposite her. Her eyes are shrouded by the fabric and her hands neatly tucked onto her lap. The Jedi Master makes no effort to start whatever interaction she’s seeking.

“Is this where I ask if you’d like a drink?”

At that, a small but sad smile. “No, thank you. As an unlikely as it may sound, I do not frequent taverns because I am fond of them.”

He snorts. “Well then, I’m stumped.”

She glances up, the shadowed vision of her royal blue eyes meeting his. “I…felt it imperative to speak to you in a less formal situation after, well.” Her lips thin out into a tight line. “That.”

It’s no mystery to what she refers, and the truth is he still holds a little resentment towards her for what happened with Barriss. He may not have been the model Master, but he knew Ahsoka like the back of his hand and _definitely_ would have foreseen her falling to the dark side. Luminara failed to do so, her training led to the death of innocents and his own padawan’s departure and for that he’s still angry with her despite it being months since it all occurred.

But he’s gotten more of a control of his emotions since he initially engaged her in a screaming match as soon as she got back to the temple after the incident (a one sided screaming match, mind you, since the thought of Luminara raising her voice like that is as bizarre as that of Obi-Wan turning purple and growing a tail). Her own emotions about the matter were not something that he cared enough at the time to consider. He knows that Obi-Wan was the one who broke the news more gently to her after Anakin’s show left her in a state of confusion, so it’s only now that he begins to consider the kind of toll something like that might have had on her.

“You mean, you wanted to catch me drunk and apologise so I wouldn’t remember it?”

The look she shoots him is not quite a glare. “ _No._ And if I wanted to catch you drunk then—” She flashes a look to her chronometer. “I would have arrived about three hours from now.”

“Then explain to me exactly what you want, Luminara, because I’m not here for some sort of heart to heart.” His eyes flicker towards the bar.

“Neither am I.” This somewhat surprises him. “I need you to tell me something, and you’re the only one I can trust to be honest with me.”

His interest is piqued. “I thought Obi-Wan was the one you were friendly with.”

“Master Kenobi is my friend, and he does not want to hurt me.” She says softly. “You have no such reservations—so I ask you, with the expectation that I shall receive absolute honesty, what did I do wrong?”

Anakin’s eyes widen at the question—he finds that he’s not…actually sure. It’s always been his assumption that Luminara’s teaching was mostly to blame for what happened but it’s not like he can pinpoint exactly where she went wrong. His experience with her and Barriss together was limited as it is, but even so it would be a disservice to not try and respond the question since she’s clearly gone to such lengths to get a straight answer so thinks about it.

“I…think it was fear.” He tells her after a long moment of contemplation.

She blinks. “Fear?”

“I’ve served with you multiple times and you’re not scared of the droid army, of Sith assassains—you’re not scared of undead Geonosian warriors or death, that’s never been the problem.” He tells her. “You’re scared of yourself.” She looks at him to continue. “You’re scared of your emotions in a way that me and Ahsoka never were—and I’m not claiming to be a perfect Master, but I always made sure my padawan knew I genuinely cared about her, and I would do anything to protect her. Can you say the same?”

Luminara has to bite the inside of her lip to stop it trembling. “I cared for my apprentice.” She says softly.

“I know you did, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t still be thinking about it.” He says as he stands up. “But did she know that?”

Anakin walks towards the bar to order himself something to drink and leaves her to mull over what he’s said. He’s not exactly the most observant Jedi in the order, not by a longshot, but given how fundamentally different he and Luminara’s relationships are it’s impossible not to notice some of the key differences. It’s often been said that his attachment to his padawan bordered on dangerous, but now he supposes that fear of that possible attachment—the fear that Luminara possesses—can be just as damaging.

He orders two drinks—she doesn’t want anything and it’s his assumption that she won’t touch it but he’ll leave it for her just in case—and then returns to his seat, regarding the unmoving Jedi curiously as he sips at his drink.

“I’ve always been able to admit when I was wrong. I don’t have the kind of pride that would restrict me from doing so, nor do I see it as a weakness—it’s how we learn, and how we grow.” She says after a minute or two of silence, her words edged with something that’s not quite calm. “But…if I did not approach attachment with my padawan the way I did, then surely I would have been breaking the code?”

“I tend to see the code as a rough guideline that an actual set of laws.” Her eyes widen as he says it and he then offers her a bitter grin. “Kidding. But if I had to bet, I’d say out interpretations of the code are quite different. It’s not exactly a black and white document that’s clear about what we can and cannot do.”

She frowns. “Attachment is forbidden no matter how you angle your philosophy, Skywalker.”

“It is,” He agrees. “But what of compassion? Is that not the purest form of love—isn’t that what we are encouraged to do? I _love_ Obi-Wan, he is a mentor and brother to me, but that is not to say I am attached to him.” That may not be _strictly_ true, and Padmé’s face does enter his mild for a second, but it wouldn’t be a good idea to talk about that right now. “Did you love Barriss?”

He’s pretty sure he already knows the answer to that—as does most of the Jedi temple, really—but Luminara is clearly still struggling with it. He can’t really blame her for that, Obi-Wan’s told him briefly about her own Master who, by all accounts, was as harsh as they come which probably contributes to her own strict emotional regulation. _Damn_ if that doesn’t explain most of this—because, curse himself, he’s starting to feel more sorry for her than angry.

“I cared greatly for my apprentice.” She says again and he narrows his eyes at her.

“That’s not what I asked.” He replies.

Her body looks so stiff in discomfort she could explode, and she abruptly stands up, pulling her cloak tighter around her. “I should go. I no longer feel comfortable with this, I miscalculated.”

“Did you?” Anakin takes another swig of his drink. “Or are you scared that I’m right?”

Luminara Unduli does not get angry, but in that moment Anakin thinks he might be seeing pure, terrified rage in her eyes. She blinks, it passes, but he’s certain it was there. “Goodnight, Master Skywalker.” She says firmly.

He doesn’t reply to that, choosing to incline his head in acknowledgment instead, and the mirialan Jedi master slips out of the tavern as if she were never there.

* * *

The next time he sees her, she’s attacking a set of training droids ferociously.

It’s not anger he senses coming off her, as he watches from the doorway, but a great deal of frustration and upset—an enormous deal, considering that her own senses are so off kilter that she hasn’t noticed him yet. Her blade slices through the unfortunate droids with a mastery of soresu, a picture of grace in a medium of destruction.

The last droid falls to the ground with a clatter and she lands heavily, retracting the blade and closing her eyes as if pained. Anakin clears his throat from the doorway to make his presence known but she does not turn.

After a long moment of silence, he finally says: “What did those droids ever do to you?”

She pulls herself up into a straight posture but doesn’t turn, securing her weapon on her belt. “Was there something you wanted, Skywalker?”

“Now you mention it,” He steps fully into the room and the door shuts behind him, stretching his arms out with a satisfying crack. “I’ve been looking for a sparring partner.”

“Are the usual suspects not available?” Now she turns, and surprises him with the slightly pained expression she’s sporting. He chooses to ignore it and shakes his head.

“You can only beat Obi-Wan so many times before it gets boring.” He smiles at her. “And he’s always telling me to branch out more, anyway. What do you say?”

The Jedi master seems to be weighing her options. It’s not hard to tell she’s still bottling up her feelings from the bombing, and what he said at the bar probably hasn’t helped enormously even if it’s true, but from Anakin’s experience taking a swing at the thing that’s bugging you generally helps a lot. She can hardly fight her own repression with her fists, but the droids who’ve taken the brunt of it so far don’t seem to have helped, so perhaps fighting someone more personally connected to her pain will help.

Eventually, she nods. “Okay.”

Her expression morphs to one of surprise when Anakin takes of his belt and lightsaber and kicks his boots off. “I was thinking hand-on-hand might be better. I’m a little out of practice.” He explains, and having no issue with it, the mirialan woman nods and copies him, tossing her blade to the side.

Anakin settles in a starting position. If he’s being really honest with himself, he’s not entirely sure why he’s doing this—he didn’t even come down here to spar, there’s a cabinet with spare comms a few rooms down because his fried again—but there’s something about Luminara Unduli that makes him feel…sorry? Guilty? Is it pity, is it the remnants of anger? It’s a morbid curiosity but one that claws at his mind anyway, and Anakin has never been one to push down his instincts.

Her opening stance is defensive so he wastes no time throwing the first punch, which she blocks easily with a steely gaze. A second jab, this time shortly followed by the swing of his leg which she vaults over, throwing a spinning kick towards his head which he ducks underneath of—Luminara drops into a crouch behind him and catches his wrist as he tries to club her from behind.

Anakin yelps as she twists it but catches a kick on her side which startles her enough for him to pull his wrist free and shake it out. “Sneaky.” He says, with the beginnings of a grin as he resettles into his stance again. The Jedi master says nothing, spinning on her heel firing a punch right back at his gut before he has the time to put up a solid defence—he manages a weak block but is pushed back a step.

He has to admit that he didn’t see such a direct shot coming. In terms of raw physical strength, he surpasses her by quite a long way as it is with lots of people since she is rather petite and that’s why when he’s seen her fight before she tends to use her superior flexibility and agility to her advantage. Today, it seems, she is impatient.

Her leg swings around for his head as he recoils from the previous blow but Anakin sees it coming and grabs her ankle mid-air, swinging around and pushing her onto the floor. “Yield, I’ve got you.”

Luminara clearly does not accept this, bending her leg up to his neck and rolling over so she’s sat on his chest with her legs holding him in a headlock. “Yield.” She repeats—lacking the flowery, teasing tone of his previous declaration. There’s sometimes very…uncomfortable about the way she says it, like she’s holding something back, like this victory was not as satisfying as she might have imagined.

Anakin narrows his eyes at her. “Hit me.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re already down.”

“I know.” He says. “Hit me. Break my nose.”

Her grip around his neck falters. “I’m not going to do that.”

He cocks his head as much to the side as he can. “But you want to. You’re still mad at me.”

The Jedi master scoffs. “That’s a ludicrous accusation.”

Anakin raises an eyebrow. “I think the bruise on my fist disagrees. You _want_ to hit me. You’re _angry._ So release it, channel it—you _know_ it’ll make you feel better. Why not?”

She releases her grip entirely and rolls off him, shaking her head as she clasps her skirt. “That is not the Jedi way and you know it, Skywalker. I have meditated on everything and moved on.”

“Then why don’t I believe you?” He looks into her eyes, a confused and cloudy indigo, and says nothing as she clenches her fist, stands up and walks away.

* * *

Anakin doesn’t actively bother her again, doesn’t even think about the sparring incident until the next week when he finds Obi-Wan’s projector left in his room. In a meeting that morning Kenobi got assigned to a Ryloth campaign that’ll set off tomorrow and it’ll be annoying for him if he doesn’t have it, so Anakin makes a beeline towards his old master’s apartment.

He knocks twice and gets no answer—uncommon but not unheard of, Anakin’s old master spends way too much time reading alone as far as Anakin’s concerned but he does have some friends so could be anywhere in the temple. That’s not really a problem since unofficially Anakin does have a keycard for Obi-Wan’s apartment, he’s had it for years for emergencies and figures Obi-Wan won’t mind him using it if it’s just to drop off the projector.

Opening the door, Anakin enters the apartment and drops the projector on the kitchen table, turning to leave when he hears something fall into the floor in Obi-Wan’s room. The Jedi knight freezes and listens—if Obi-Wan were in he would have responded to a knock at the door, is it possible that someone else has deemed it a good idea to break into his master’s apartment?

As far as Anakin’s concerned, _he’s_ the only one allowed to break into Obi-Wan’s apartment.

With steely determination he sneaks towards the door against the wall, footfalls so quiet they’re practically inaudible, and becomes alarmingly certain of movement in the other room. Slipping his lightsaber into his hand, Anakin gets himself into fighting stance in front of the door and pushes it open in one quick motion.

He quickly yelps and drops his lightsaber, spinning to look away, as he spies his Master lip locked with Master Unduli, completely naked, as she rocks against him with her legs tight against his waist.

“Oh FORCE—” He hears Obi-Wan shout as the knight scrambles to pick his lightsaber from the floor and then sprints out of the apartment as quickly as he can, desperate to find some acid for his eyes. He’s been in a lot of sticky situations with Obi-Wan in the past, but none have quite burned into his mind like that.

Later, he’ll realise that perhaps Master Unduli has taken his advice to loosen up a little.

Meanwhile, in Obi-Wan’s bedroom, the Jedi just stare at each other in shock. The human man gulps and shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to look at him again.”

Luminara bites her lip and repositions herself on top of him. “I think you’ll manage. And this isn’t as bad as the time Barriss—”

He holds a hand up. “Please don’t remind me.”

“Well, we may as well finish what we started.” She says, sinking deeper against him which coaxes a low groan.

He nods quickly. “You’re quite right.”

Luminara doesn’t tell him that she loves him, but holds him like a woman in love, whimpers his name as he gives her release and clings to him like a lifeline. She has had past loves and experiences (not that most people would believe her if she told them), has been with many men and a few women too but she belongs only to him—and now she has lost her padawan, the child she was never supposed to love, he is all that is left to her.

Or perhaps she was supposed to love her all along—perhaps she’s misunderstood the code she lives her life by. The thought makes her want to scream so she tries not to entertain it often even though it rattles around her mind at night liked a caged animal ever since Skywalker let it loose.

From Obi-Wan she is not expecting fidelity—that’s never been part of this arrangement, for all the years of its existence—but for the first time she’s finding that she _craves_ it. She craves something more meaningful than the casual encounters that will be promptly forgotten about—she craves something _real._

The pad of her thumb traces his bearded jaw as he falls asleep nuzzled against her, Skywalker incident forgotten. Luminara wonders about the lengths she might have to go to call him her own.

* * *

“Padawan.”

Luminara doesn’t go and see her fallen student in prison for a long time. Not because she’s ashamed of Barriss or punishing the girl in some way but because she’s scared, scared of what she’ll find—scared she won’t be able to keep her resolve. Seeing Barriss’ speech over holo is one thing, and even that has had her reeling for months in confusion and horror, but seeing, hearing, _feeling_ her in person is an entirely different plane of experience.

Skywalker prods at her defences, and he annoys her but damnit he’s not stupid. She needs to do this—needs to prove to herself that she _can_ keep a hold her herself, that these past few months of turmoil have been one big blip and she can move on properly.

But when she sees the girl she raised in orange, hair covered by a simple white cap looking so lost and yet so certain in the corner of her cell she starts to wonder if she is ready for this.

The girl blinks, not quite sure if this is some sort of illusion. “Master?”

The Jedi says nothing for a long moment, sitting in front of her old student and taking a deep breath. “I thought it about time I came to see you.”

Barriss pulls herself up into a sitting position on the hard, uncomfortable looking bunk. “I didn’t think you’d ever come. But I suppose now is fitting.”

There’s more to that statement that Luminara understands, but she doesn’t ask about it. “I was wondering if you wanted to meditate. You always found guided meditation to be helpful in the past.”

“You…” Barriss frowns. “That’s not why you’re here.”

Luminara’s impassive face betrays nothing of the turmoil inside her. “Why am I here, then?”

Barriss’ mouth falls open, closes, and then open again. “You…you’re angry at me, you have questions—you…”

“I am not angry at you.” She says, and that is true. “Do you have any questions for me, padawan?”

“Don’t— _don’t_ call me that.” Barriss’ stare is hard and cold and Luminara twitches under its hold. Barriss isn’t Luminara’s padawan anymore, she’s not the Jedi knight she was made prematurely and she’s not even really a citizen of the Republic anymore. She, as do countless criminals, spends her days in a cage of the Jedi’s making free of war and suffering but young, oh so young, and _sad._

“I’m sorry.” Luminara says at Barriss’ comment, but both know she’s talking about a lot more than just that.

“I’m alone in here.” Barriss says, sliding onto her knees on the other side of the ray shield. “But…that’s not so different from before, is it?”

The mirialan master sighs. “I was always there for you, Barriss. I cared— _care—_ for you greatly.”

There has never been a more pitying smile than the one Barriss offers her in that moment—tragically ironic, given that Luminara is the free one of the pair. “If you really believe that true, then my message never reached you, did it?”

But Luminara doesn’t accept that and shakes her head. “If you believe your message was anything more than the death of innocents then, no, forgive me for not receiving it. Perhaps this was a mistake.”

“Perhaps. I assumed you just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?”

Barriss frowns. “My execution date has been moved to next week.”

A breath sticks uncomfortably in Luminara’s throat. She knew execution had been in the cards from the beginning, it was what they always intended to do with Ahsoka but...She just wasn’t expecting—never let herself believe that—

Luminara leaves before her padawan can see her lip tremble.

* * *

Before she can figure out why she’s standing outside Skywalker’s apartment, her hand poised to knock.

Normally her instinct when seeking out company is to find Obi-Wan or Quinlan but for some reason her legs carried straight here, to Skywalker’s apartment which she has never stepped foot in before. She couldn’t even tell someone asking where to find it off the top of her head were she feeling normal but in her delirious state has managed to get herself here anyway.

She remains there, hand an inch from knocking for almost a full minute before she slowly pulls it away and holds it to her chest. Force, she shouldn’t be seeking out the one knight who dislikes her more than anyone else, she shouldn’t _need_ anyone right now—

As she goes to walk away, the door slides open and Skywalker stands before her like he’s been expecting her. Luminara blinks, considering just walking away, but finds her legs moving before her mind catches up when he invites her in. They move to his kitchenette which has a stack of dirty plates in the sink and some questionable dirt on the floor but for once she barely notices it. She sits at one of the chairs and looks intently at the floor.

“What happened?” He asks, too impatient to wait for her to offer an explanation in her own time.

“Next week,” Luminara says, swallowing thickly. “My padawan is going to be executed for treason.”

Anakin isn’t surprised, nor does he think it’s not deserved, but for the first time in this exchange does feel genuinely sorry for the Jedi Master. Partly because, were the roles reversed, he believes Luminara would advocate for Ahsoka’s life to be saved—and if he’s never going to find it in himself to do the same for Barriss then the least he can do is have a little compassion for a woman who is losing her daughter.

He sits next to her, unsure what to say. Padmé would probably be a lot better at this than he is, she’s always had a way with words, but he finds his own mind drawing a blank. “I’m sorry.” He says, and nothing else.

“No one told me.” Luminara lets out a held in breath with such force it almost sounds like a laugh. “ _No one told me._ Not about this, not that she had bombed the temple—I had to find out from Obi-Wan weeks later when I came back from the front lines—she is going to _die and…_ ” She closes her eyes as her whole body tenses. “I wouldn’t have known.”

Anakin considers her statements. “Why not?”

At face value the question sounds a little inane but Luminara understands what he’s trying to say. _Why not—_ because she doesn’t ask questions, because people think she’s strong enough to deal with it without any help, because she’s a high general of the republic and she’s used to collateral damage. Anakin does not doubt that this situation would have been handled differently were it not Luminara’s padawan who committed the crime—most Master’s would have been called down from the front lines immediately for the trial, appeared in holo if not in person or, at the very least, given a careful explanation.

No such measures were taken with Luminara and it does lead to the consideration of _why not._

“I live in service of the force, in service of the people within the Republic.” She says though the words seem to hold very little weight. “I suppose it’s sometimes easy to forget that I’m a person too.”

Anakin bites his lip. “I get it. I get what it’s like to be screwed over by the council.”

She looks to him. “I know you don’t always agree with their decisions.”

“Do you?” He asks. “Do you, really? Because it doesn’t seem like the council cares about me, cares about you or anyone else sometimes. And isn’t it our upmost duty as Jedi to care?”

And he _does_ care, passionately and vividly—he’s luminous where the rest of them are greyscale, and Luminara has never before seen that in a positive light but now, as she sits exhausted to the bone and lost in a cloud of repressed emotion, she _sees_ him. Skywalker is still a child in so many ways, a child who is filled with feeling that’s ever so close to spilling over.

Luminara, like most other Jedi, does not know what it’s like to be a child but she does know that he’s not wrong. He’s not wrong to feel those things, because when she looks at her own padawans deluded pride adorned in orange she feels exactly the same. It is perverse and uncertain because she is a novice in the field of emotion, but that does not mean she does not feel as deeply as he.

“I love her.” Luminara says in the same tone one might admit to a murder. She surprises herself at the admission and feels her eyes widen.

“I know.” Anakin replies, a certain softness to his tone that she hasn’t heard before. “I know.”

“How can I just sit here and _let them_ —but if I don’t, can I really be a Jedi?—She’s a criminal, but I—”

“I’m married.”

That completely slices through Luminara’s train of thought and she stares wide-eyed at the knight who seems to also have surprised himself with that confession. There’s nothing he could say to try and make that statement any less forbidden, so he doesn’t, just starring at the floor in seeming regret.

She thinks about what Obi-Wan has told her, often with mention to a certain senator. “The Senator of Naboo?”

Anakin, not making eye contact, nods.

Luminara swallows, not sure how to respond. Luminara Unduli two months ago would have reported that immediately no matter the consequence for Skywalker because romantic attachments are not the Jedi way, the fact that’s it’s a politician he’s decided to wed just the cherry on the cake. She hasn’t heard of any case like that in all her living memory though can form a general idea of what that sort of reprimand would be like—and can only pity what would come for Skywalker should she turn him in.

But now…Luminara thinks of Obi-Wan, of their causal arrangement that she’d really rather not be so casual and considers secrecy. Skywalker’s future is clouded and the council dislikes his tactics, that is no secret, and now with Ahsoka gone…Obi-Wan aside, he has no one in the temple to confide in. Is it such a surprise that he sought friendship elsewhere, and that him finding it in Amidala lead to something forbidden?

The mirialan Jedi feels a hysterical laugh bubble up at the back of her throat and lets out, the other Jedi looking up in surprise. The more she laughs the more she feels it and starts to laugh harder, resting her hand on the table and folding in on herself. Anakin joins in, her hysterical amusement contagious, unsure whether she’s laughing because of the sheer lunacy of the whole situation or simple disbelief.

She eventually catches her breath, wiping tears from her eyes, and smiles at her companion. “Congratulations.”

The roar of a laugh Anakin lets out can be heard two corridors down.

* * *

That night Luminara seeks out Obi-Wan and lays awake in his bed for a long time. As if sensing the turmoil she’s taken pains to hide within her, her friend—also awake long past midnight, runs a hand along her naked back and looks to her with concern. “Is everything alright, ‘Nara?”

Luminara considers the question and shifts to face him so she can press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’ve been thinking far too much lately.” She tells him, so quiet it’s almost a whisper. “About everything—about you a little. About…” Another kiss, firmer and more demanding. “I’m not sure I can do things like this anymore because, even though I _know_ it’s wrong I can’t help but want…” She trails off, taking her hand away from his face and rolling onto her back, naked skin in the open air.

“Say the word,” He whispers back. “And I’m yours.”

She offers him a look of shock that she knows he won’t be able to see in the dark. After a moment of contemplation, she pushes herself back up to straddle his waist with her legs and leans down pressing her chest against his, her breath a ghost on his lips.

“You’re mine.” She whispers, brushing her finger against his cheek as she takes his hardness in her hand, which coaxes a moan out of her partner. “And I yours.”

It’s not marriage like Skywalker, but there is no vow more solemn she could have given him, no promise more sacred than the one he’s given her.

* * *

Luminara makes a case to the chancellor to spare Barriss but is overruled at every turn. All she can see when she looks at the girl is the twelve-year-old she tucked back into bed at night when she had night terrors, the child she lived with for just shy of a decade, that she _loved,_ damnit, like her daughter and is going to be ripped away from her.

The council also opposes her stance, believing it to be an excess of attachment and Master Yoda offers to meditate with her to try and overcome the _dangerous_ emotion which, to quote, ‘they weren’t expecting of a master of her calibre’. They have truly abandoned Barriss to her cruel fate as they did Ahsoka, and Luminara has never had any less faith in the Jedi council.

Her head is a mess of contradictions and desperation for a sense of clarity that eludes her—everything she does is morally wrong from someone’s perspective, and the code ceases to offer her the simple comfort it always has before. Skywalker has her questioning every line because what if he’s _right,_ what if the Jedi have been wrong all along and the lack of threat for thousands of years has morphed the Order into some perversion of their original intentions?

She keeps his secret, because not to do so would be quite frankly hypocritical when she sleeps in Obi-Wan’s bed every night she can, and he hers.

The Barriss dilemma plagues her until the day before her execution when she genuinely considers breaking the girl out when the news comes in that she needn’t bother—the girl, completely alone, broke out of her cell in the middle of the night and escaped into the underworld. The chances are that she’ll get off Coruscant before the Jedi can pursue her since there are so few Jedi available—using one to pursue a terrorist prisoner is something left to clones—in shorter terms, Barriss is free, and won’t die tomorrow.

Over the next few months Luminara goes from assignment to assignment in a blind daze. The people she meets all blend into one another, and each day feels like a repetition of the last—Gree is a good companion and a trusted friend but she finds herself missing Obi-Wan dreadfully, and bizarrely Skywalker too. It seems she is not the only one who feels this way, the highlights of her months are the few days before they’re redeployed when she and one of the others are at the temple at the same time. She goes out for food with Anakin, they spar and sometimes watch stupid holofilms—group meditate like younglings are taught to do in clans and once he even introduces her to his wife. With Obi-Wan things are of course different, he cooks for her since she burns all food she tries to make herself, and they dance in bars disguised as a normal couple—he braids her hair like an Alderaanian princess and she makes love to him like it’s the last time, because it always could be the last time for both of them.

It’s easy to forget you’re in a war when you’re trapped in your own head.

One day, months later, Skywalker runs into her apartment without knocking, panting and red-faced. Luminara raises an eyebrow, cradling her cup of tea in her hands. Normally she’d make a wry comment about knocking but the man seems a little too distressed for that right now, so instead she says: “Is something wrong?” Just before she takes a sip.

Anakin stares at her. “Padmé’s pregnant.”

Luminara chokes on her tea.

The knight looks concerned but after a brief coughing fit the mirialan woman sorts herself out and takes a breath to settle. Anakin looks at her nervously for some sort of reaction.

She sighs deeply, moving her hand to rest over his. “Oh, Skywalker.”

“I’m going to be,” He shakes his head. “A _father._ ”

“Indeed.” Luminara inclines her head. “Are you going to leave the Order?”

“I don’t know.” He sighs and pulls out a chair to sit down. “I think Padmé wants me to once the baby’s born. She wants to move to the lake country on Naboo and live on our own but…”

Luminara squeezes his hand gently to try and comfort him. “But?”

“But how can I leave if the war’s still going on? It’s easier for her, someone will just replace her once her term’s up but I’m a Jedi, it’s not the same thing. I have a responsibility here.”

The mirialan woman considers what she’s going to say before she says it. It’s a little unbelievable that she’s sat in her apartment giving Anakin Skywalker advice about how to best deal with his forbidden marriage and impending fatherhood without reporting it to the council but frankly she can’t quite find it in herself to aid in the ruin of one of the few relationships the young man has that mean something. “Like it or not, you’ve now many responsibilities on your shoulders at once.” She says slowly. “And at some point, you’re going to have decide who needs you more—and it’ll be very difficult. But you have time, you don’t have to choose now. The best thing you can do now is not overthink anything, and not do anything rash.” She stands and heads towards the kettle. “I’m going to make you some tea.”

He nods miserably. “What would you do?”

She’s surprised at the question. “If my wife was pregnant with my baby?”

That coaxes a little smile from him, which is an accomplishment however weak. “You know what I mean.”

Luminara pours out her own lukewarm tea and refills the kettle. “I can’t make the decision for you, Skywalker. There is no right answer that could apply to both of us—it’s something you must come to alone.”

“I know.” He sighs. “But I’d still like to know what you’d do. Obi-Wan’s always telling me to listen to other perspectives and you…well, you normally know what you’re doing.”

That’s less true now than it ever has been before, but she supposes he does have a point. Luminara sets the water to boil and turns back to him, leaning against the counter with her hands folded over her abdomen. “I would terminate my pregnancy. But it is not your place to demand anything of Senator Amidala—if she wants to keep the child, then that is something to be respected.”

He nods. “I know.”

The water boils and Luminara drops two tea bags in. Sometimes she likes to use the proper leaves and steep them traditionally but doesn’t think Skywalker will be able to tell the difference so offers him the mug with a spoon. “I’m sorry I can’t help you anymore. I’m not a proper healer but I am adequate in the field—I could examine her if you haven’t had anyone else yet.”

Another gentle smile. “Thanks. It means a lot.”

* * *

The friendship between Anakin Skywalker and Luminara Unduli is not one that anyone foresaw, themselves included, but has an underlying base of trust and pain that people around them find difficult to understand. He still finds her to be a little emotionally constipated, but she is kind, and understanding and fierce in a way most people don’t understand. She still finds him childish and arrogant but also strong, resilient and, as a friend, extremely compassionate and reliable. Anakin Skywalker is loyal to a fault to those he cares about, and she respects it.

The council trusts neither of them, something that bothers him more than her, but they take solace in their peculiar friendship.

But when he starts to get premonitions of his wife’s death like the ones of his mother, Luminara senses him slipping. He is a bottle of rage threatening to spill over at any moment and she can’t figure out how to help him—all she can give him his her friendship and her trust, as does Obi-Wan, but it seems whatever the chancellor has to say holds more weight as the war draws to an end.

And once he executes the unarmed Count Dooku, an act that it seems the Jedi have decided to brush over, she does become outright concerned for the young knight.

“You shouldn’t have asked him to spy.” Luminara says, one day before she’s due to be deployed to Kashyyyk, as she eats honeyed porridge with Obi-Wan in her apartment.

Obi-Wan scowls. “That was supposed to be a secret assignment, you know.”

She shrugs. “You knew he would tell me. He’s angry, he needs to vent. It’s better he does so to me than the chancellor himself.”

“You don’t think that there’s something…wrong with Palpatine?”

She swallows a mouthful of porridge. “I didn’t say that. And I agree he should be monitored.” Luminara says. “But not by Anakin. The council is making a mistake.”

“There is no one the chancellor trusts more than Anakin.” Obi-Wan replies, though he lacks a certain conviction.

“And there is no one Anakin trusts more than the chancellor. He will view it as a betrayal of a friend.” Luminara says. “I’m going to request a meeting with him before I go.”

Obi-Wan frowns. “With Palpatine? With what pretext?”

“I’m often in the senate, we are acquainted. I’m sure I’ll find some dispute to use as an excuse, I just…” She trails off. “I’d like to talk to him by myself. He never seems to be with any Jedi alone Anakin aside, and I’d like to get a better idea myself of what he’s like. I…feel deeply uneasy with letting Skywalker carry this out alone.”

“The council won’t like that.”

“I’m afraid the council doesn’t like anything I do anymore.” Her lips settle into a harsh line. “But I have to trust my senses, and they are pushing me towards Palpatine. You can come with me, if you like.”

His hand settles over hers and he smiles. “As much as I’d love to visit the politicians with you, the council are going to meet about Grievous. I need to be there in person.”

It’s not like she had particularly high hopes he’d be able to join her so nods in understanding.

* * *

Luminara has been to the chancellor’s office plenty of times throughout the war and not uncommonly before it, he often has a group of Jedi to consult before large congressional decisions in the senate or to question Jedi movements in regard to the war but not once has she been to see him alone, so that in itself feels a little weird. She does not call ahead because she doesn’t have the time for the meeting to be postponed to another date with her being deployed tomorrow, so instead—after checking the chancellor is in with one of the senate guards, heads straight up to his floor.

It’s clear that, for once, Palpatine is genuinely surprised at her arrival though quickly pushes his expression to look indifferent. “Master Unduli!” He exclaims as she enters. “What a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?”

She offers him a civil smile and approaches his desk, hands tucked in the sleeves of her cloak. “I actually come at the behest of my own curiosity, in regard to the end of the war.” She takes a seat when Palpatine gestures for her to. “I find that our plans for the clones upon an end to the hostilities has been…unclear, somewhat.”

“Well we cannot be certain of anything yet, but I’m sure after General Grievous is successfully apprehended all of that will be our primary focus. But the rough plan is to decommission the army once the war is over and give the clones permission to a free life should they desire it.”

Luminara frowns, studying his face. “I find it peculiar you haven’t considered this more carefully, Chancellor. Should we not be offering more reassuring services to the men who have fought and died for the Republic than just supposed freedom to sort themselves out? What about job security, housing—”

“I’m afraid with everything that’s been going on, this has not been my priority, Master Jedi.” Palpatine cuts her off. “With matters to do with the clones you may want to talk more directly with the kaminoans.”

“I shall, thank you.” Luminara nods, deciding to test the waters. “I know it’s something a few of us were concerned about, Master Kenobi, Master Skywalker…” She trails off, catching the chancellor’s interest be ever so slightly piqued at the mention of the latter. “Well, the clones have become dear friends to us all throughout this conflict. They deserve security for all they have sacrificed.”

The Chancellor nods in agreement. “Of course. I met with Master Skywalker earlier, actually, and he did not mention it.”

Luminara raises an eyebrow. “Really? That’s peculiar. I suppose, with the two of you being such good friends, he might not have wanted to push any agenda he has personal feelings for.”

“Hmm.” Palpatine considers her words. “You, it seems, have no such qualms, Master Unduli.”

She offers him a tight smile. “No, I do not. And besides, given the nature of our relationship—or the lack thereof—I don’t think anyone could accuse me of having an unfair influence on you, could they?”

His lips thin out into a bitter, uncomfortable smile. “No.” He says. “As nice as it has been to see you Master Unduli, I must cut this short. There is much to do, as you can imagine.”

The woman nods respectfully and stands as the chancellor considers the rather dangerous implications of what just happened. He was so close to achieving all his goals, the rift between Anakin and his Master has been festering for months and he has the knight’s ultimate trust but he had not factored in that there may be some relationships the boy has he didn’t deem worthy enough to tell him about.

Master Luminara is a complication, and Palpatine senses she knows a lot more about Skywalker than she would ever let on. More than perhaps Anakin has trusted the chancellor himself with.

This will not do. But her disappearance after a meeting she may well have informed others of would be far too dangerous now since the council are already so suspicious of him, he cannot allow Anakin to have any reason to doubt him whatsoever—or, at least, not yet.

He lets her leave his office unaware of the fact she’s just moved up very high on his mental list of priorities.

* * *

“Of course, Master.” Luminara nods, stood with Commander Gree to her left and Master Yoda on her right as the grand master briefs her on the plan for Kashyyyk. Part of her, for whatever unexplained reason, feels deeply unsettled. She’s been on a hundred missions like this and has no personal distaste for forest planets like the wookie home as she does with some others (hot climates, like Ryloth, are those that tend to put her slightly off—not that personal feelings like that would ever stop her from doing her duty) but something about this feels deeply wrong. “Before we go, I…” She trails off, Master Yoda looking at her in curiosity.

“Yes?”

“I…” It seems almost silly to try and vocalise her concern because she doesn’t know what’s filled her with such a sense of foreboding, but it’s _something_ and she can’t ignore that. “I sense something wrong and I—” She bites her lip. “Could I be permitted another hour on Coruscant to investigate. If I find nothing then I’ll be sure to follow you to Kashyyyk with haste, but I feel ignoring my feelings may be a mistake.”

The grand master regards her carefully. “Ideal, this is not, Master Unduli.” He says. “But trust in the force, we must. An hour, I will give you.”

She bows her head. “Thank you, Commander Gree can take over in my brief absence. I shall see you soon.”

Luminara doesn’t know what’s wrong, only that _something_ is wrong, and it is endlessly frustrating. The logical, thoughtful conclusion would probably be to find somewhere quiet and calm to meditate on it and try and find a solution that way but she’s running on a tight schedule here, so follows her more practical instincts and sends a signal to Obi-Wan’s comm.

He answers it after a few seconds. “Luminara? I thought you’d be on your way to Kashyyyk by now.”

“I was—or, I should be—” She frowns, realising his signal is coming from a long way away. “You’ve left already?”

“I’m afraid so, my dear.” His smile is apologetic. “Utapau system. Grievous waits for no one.”

Is this what she’s feeling so badly about? Is it some sort of premonition to warn her that Obi-Wan’s encounter shall not end well, or something more than that? “I shan’t keep you, then.” She says, tempering her voice. “May the force be with you and…” She bites her lip. “Be safe, Obi-Wan.”

His chuckle run throughs the comm. “Thank you. And you too, my dear.”

Luminara cuts off the transmission and sends a second signal, this time to Skywalker who she knows to be still on Coruscant, as she approaches the temple steps. To her surprise, he blocks the signal straight away, but it doesn’t take her long to trace it back to the senate building which means he’s either with Padmé, or the chancellor.

Either way, given the dreams he’s been having, something tells her he might be the source of the disturbance she feels so quickly turns around, taking a speeder from the temple and heading straight there.

As it turns out, it takes her less than a minute to find Anakin upon arrival since he’s almost stumbling out the front entrance of the senate radiating such distress that she initially recoils. Deeply concerned, Luminara makes herself known and places a gentle hand on his shoulder as he stares at her without comment.

“Skywalker,” She utters, gently. “What’s wrong?”

He blinks twice and takes her hand from his shoulder, practically dragging her towards the speeder. If she’s annoyed at the abrupt mannerism then she doesn’t show it, allowing him to take the lead for her. Her senses clearly haven’t failed her, something is deeply wrong, and given that this is coming from the senate building it makes her stomach curl in distaste.

“I…wait. Until we’re back.” He says and, needing no more prompting, Luminara nods.

“I’ll drive.” She says, and it speaks to the gravity of whatever’s happened that he does not protest. Instead he holds onto her waist and she drives them back to the temple, head cocked ever so slightly to the side and eyes absent as if in deep contemplation. Luminara’s involvement with the incredulities and dramatics of the Skywalker clan has been limited despite the time she’s been spending with them for the past few months, and while the thought of being tangled in it all now probably isn’t the best in terms of self-preservation she cannot help but feel if she wasn’t here, if she didn’t seek out Anakin in this moment of distress, then he’d be completely alone.

Can’t help but feel like maybe this is why the force chose to bring them together in the first place.

She parks the speeder back in the spot she took it from and elegantly vaults off of it, snatching Anakin’s hand and matching his pace as they sprint up the stairs and through the doors making a beeline for the nearest empty meditation chamber. He locks the door behind them.

Luminara looks at him in anticipation of an explanation. After a moment he glances up to meet her gaze and simply says: “Palpatine is the Sith lord.”

Luminara blinks. “Are you…sure?”

He nods and sits beside her. “He knows the ways of the force, the ways of the dark side…he’s obviously been trained.”

The mirialan woman stands. “Then we must tell the council. Ending him will end the war, if what you say is true. We can destroy the Sith once and for all!”

“I know, I know I must…” He looks contemplative, like he wants to confide something in her but believes it to be something she might not approve of. Even so, Luminara leans before him and rests her hands on his knees gently, forcing his eyes to meet hers.

“Skywalker,” She says, firmly but not unkindly. “I am your friend. I have trusted you with my sins, and you have trusted me with yours—I promise I shall not judge you. Let me help you.”

The knight considers it for a moment before, in a voice that is uncharacteristically hesitant, he replies. “He…he said he can save Padmé from death. That the Sith…their power is beyond that of a Jedi, that he could help me save her.”

Two months ago Luminara would have told him that Sith are liars, that they’re promises are false and self-serving, that Palpatine’s word is to be completely disregarded and they should take what he has learnt straight to the council. Now she can see that, if anything, this line of thought would only push her friend further into the arms of the Sith. Instead, swallowing all her reservations, Luminara says: “If such power exists, you do not need _him_ to find it.”

Water starts to build in the man’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

“The Sith have many powers that we cannot understand, so he may well be telling the truth.” She concedes. “But his offer will come at a terrible price, Anakin, you must see that. He does not care about Padmé, he cares about power and is using you as a medium to achieve it. But once this is all said and done,” She takes a deep breath. No going back now. “I shall help you find the answers you are looking for, on your own terms. You are the Chosen One Skywalker, there isn’t anything you can’t do without a little help.”

He considers her words carefully. “We…we should report this to Master Windu.”

Luminara nods. “Yes. Shape own path, Anakin—don’t let those who would seek to take advantage of your power do it for you.”

She is inadvertently denouncing both Sith and Jedi here, though with everything else going on that really is the least of her worries.

Her comm then beeps, Master Yoda—probably asking for her to start making her trip to Kashyyyk. She thinks about the wookies and her men on the front lines, about the separatist droids who have been manufactured and destroyed for the same purpose as the clones—thinks about how truly pointless all this bloodshed and death has been.

Luminara ignores it and stands with Skywalker.

* * *

They tell Master Windu about Palpatine and he takes a team to confront the Sith Lord, though denies Anakin’s request to join them—even asks Luminara to accompany them over him but she made her excuses about needing to report back to Kashyyyk even though she has no intention of doing so. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt such hurt and anger and misery coming off another being so strongly as it does Anakin—the verbal confirmation that the council did not trust him for all he’s done, that he may never be considered one of them because of his unorthodox beginning.

It _really_ wouldn’t be a good idea to leave him alone right now.

“I have to go after them, they don’t understand how powerful he is.” He says in an almost dangerous tone, walking to a group of clones to take their gunship.

“Skywalker,” Luminara says, picking up her pace so she can block his path. “Stop for a moment.”

“You’re not going to change my mind.” He narrows his eyes.

“I’m not trying to.” She tells him calmly, folding her hands in front of her. “I’m just asking you to stop, to breathe. Don’t rush into anything you’ll regret.”

With an expression of exasperation, Anakin inhales deeply and lets it go—body rigid with tension—and slowly begins to release some of his emotions into the force around him. “I need to help them, Luminara. I can’t leave them to fend for themselves, I can’t…I _won’t._ They don’t understand how powerful he is.”

“Then I will go with you.” She says. “We must all face demons, but…” Luminara struggles not to wince as Barriss’ face comes to mind. “I do not intend to let anyone else have to do it alone.”

He seems almost surprised at her reply, as if she would have left him— _like you did with Barriss_ —but quickly gets over it. “We can take this gunship.” He says and she nods, listening as he commands the clone pilot to drop them off at the senate building. Luminara’s comm goes off again, and again she ignores it.

The brief flight to the senate building might have induced more feeling in the Jedi master were her thoughts not so clouded in Skywalker’s own tormented projections—he never did learn to dissolve feelings rather than broadcast them as Luminara (and, granted, most other Jedi) do though not for Obi-Wan’s lack of teaching. If anything, for once she actually finds it to be a relief since it’s an excellent distraction from her own fears and doubts, and she knows that if she did focus on herself for even a minute, some more very un-jedi emotions would probably arise.

The gunship stops outside the senate, Luminara thanks the pilot as they jump off while Anakin marches on with purpose. She is quick to catch up, and mutters: “Remember to breathe, Skywalker.”

He doesn’t reply but his settled and controlled breaths tell her that he is listening, which is good. She shouldn’t really even be here, but something in the force is propelling her forward and she won’t ignore her instincts. If nothing else, she has faith in her connection with the force and will always trust it even if to her own detriment.

The cold air of the senate building hits them like an airbus as soon as they step inside, but it’s clear from the casual mood of the senators, aides and other various people wandering about that they don’t feel it. It’s a very specific type of chill, the kind of the dark side that Luminara has only never been near enough to experience this deeply once before, and a single jagged claw of fear scratches at the back of her mind.

Shaking it off, and pulling her cloak tighter around her, she follows her friend to enter the turbolift. If there is something appropriate to say in this circumstance Luminara can’t think of it, so says nothing as she takes her lightsaber off her belt and into her right hand—clutching it tight as the air around them gets tighter and colder.

She had thought sensing Ventress was dark. The assassin had been so full of rage and hatred that it was a startling, but far from enough to ever throw Luminara off her game.

Luminara had not believed that fury could exist in the levels of that bleeding from the chancellor’s office, and is horrified at the knowledge that it is, in fact, real. Closing her eyes, Luminara steels herself for what may very likely be her last battle if the previous team of Jedi have been unsuccessful.

* * *

“You are under arrest, my lord.”

Anakin marches straight towards the fallen chancellor who has an amethyst blade to his neck while Luminara hangs back, kneeling by the still bodies of Jedi at her feet. She reaches for Master Fisto, and takes his pulse which is, as she anticipated, gone. Luminara presses her lips together in grief for the man she had once considered a friend.

“Anakin, I told you it would come to this,” The chancellor’s voice is raspy and desperate. “I was right! The Jedi are taking over!”

“The oppression of the Sith with never return.” Master Windu says. “You have lost.”

“No, no, _no, no—”_ Luminara stares horrified as Palpatine’s voice morphs into something no longer human. “You will die!” A stream of blue lightning erupts from the man’s fingers and Windu is lucky to move his blade in time to deflect it, though is clearly straining under the pressure. Internally the mirialan master implores Anakin to _do something,_ to _help Master Windu_ but she finds herself just as frozen as he, unable to intervene.

“Traitor!”

“He is the traitor!”

“I have the power to save the one you love!”

Luminara’s eyes dart straight to Anakin as she watches him in great conflict. Forcing herself back to her feet, she steps towards Skywalker with her hilt still held firmly in her grasp and places a gentle hand on his back. She says nothing—anything she could say she’s said already, there would be little point—it’s just a reminder that he’s not alone, he’ll never have to be alone, and she’s right beside him should be need her.

“Don’t listen to him, Anakin!” Master Windu says with a strained voice.

The strength in Palpatine’s hands starts to fade. “Don’t let him kill me…” The man chokes out. “I can’t hold any longer…I’m too—too weak. Anakin, Anakin, help me!” His face has become misshapen with the toxicity of his power, it’s white and sore and ghastly but Luminara cannot muster any compassion within her, the feeling of Master Fisto’s dead pulse still too fresh in her mind.

“I’m going to end this once and for all.” Master Windu says.

Luminara feels a surge of anger rise in Anakin, and her own heart misses a beat in shock.

Her head is flooded with thoughts but none louder than _Barriss was right, Barriss was right, Barriss was RIGHT._

“He must stand trial.” Anakin finally speaks.

“He has control of the senate and the courts. He’s too dangerous to be left alive.”

“I’m too weak, oh, please don’t kill me, oh—”

Her eyes become fuzzy and she’s can’t quite see because _this is wrong, it’s oh so wrong_ and _Barriss was right_ and everything she’s been brought up to believe has been thrown of kilter. Her heart hurts for the Jedi that have been killed because of this man, this man’s Clone War—her mind reels in something dangerously close to anger because it’s Palpatine’s war and Palpatine’s missions that caused her student to fall—it’s not _fair_ and Master Windu is right but—

“It’s not the Jedi way!” Anakin replies, and Luminara can’t help but agree with him too. This _isn’t_ the Jedi way, what Master Windu proposes fundamentally goes against their teaches but the council made an exception in the death of Count Dooku so she supposes they would make an exception here.

_This is all wrong—BARRISS WAS RIGHT—_

“He must live!” Anakin continues as Windu raises his blade. “I need him, no, NO—”

The blue blade slices through Master Windu wrist and the man cries out in pain. Luminara, in horrified awe reaches out and calls the fallen blade into her left hand and closing her eyes as she hears the screams of pain of the Master Jedi and the Sith’s shouts of joy. Her mind is screaming to _do something_ but she doesn’t, her mind awash with pain and fear and…

_Barriss._

“What have I done?” Anakin moans, snapping her out of her own head, as he falls back against the stool behind him.

Luminara blinks, staring the two blades in her hand and then at the chancellor who pushes himself onto his feet—apparently not as weak as he would have had them think. She thinks Palpatine is talking but can’t tell what he’s saying, her eyes focussing only on the fallen master’s blade in her hand. It’s _wrong,_ she should be disgusted and she should be fighting but all she can do is stand and stare.

She drops her own lightsaber and holds the purple blade to her chest.

“You must kill her, Anakin.” _That_ gets her attention, and she sees the Sith Lord with his hands on Anakin’s shoulder. Her friend seems on the brink of collapse and her eyes widen. “The Jedi have betrayed me. They all must die.”

“No, no, no…” The younger man shakes his head and puts his head in his hands. “ _Not her._ And not Obi-Wan, they wouldn’t, you don’t understand, they _couldn’t—”_

“They are _Jedi,_ Anakin.” The Sith Lord hisses.

Luminara stops herself from falling back into the opening form of soresu, instead falling to her knees with Windu’s hilt clutched firmly in her hands. “Am I nothing but your friend, Anakin?—this man seeks to exploit you, I have never asked _anything_ from you other than time and honesty, and will always provide the same. I understand that you are not the Jedi the council have always told you that you have to be but please hear me when I say there are _more options_ than simply dark and light in this galaxy. Palpatine would present you with two choices here, life and death, but I _promise you_ that there is more than that, that you have infinite options in this moment and all of them are better than what he offers you right now.”

Anakin shakes and sweats as if he has a fever and glances between the two figures before him. Luminara doesn’t give him time to think about it further.

“Palpatine could kill me himself with ease right now, Skywalker.” She says. “And yet he asks it of you. What _friend_ would do so? Do I ask you to do the same, have I ever asked anything of you other than for you to choose your own path? Do not let this man dictate your future, the future of the entire galaxy, for you.”

She understands that Anakin’s killing of her would be an entirely symbolic gesture for Palpatine. It would show dedication to leaving his old values behind and aligning himself entirely with the Sith, for if he can kill her—someone he genuinely cares about—then he can kill anyone. She only hopes that her friend can find it within himself to understand that too.

“She’s not like them.” Anakin says, pushing himself to his feet.

“They are all the _same,_ Anakin—all of the Jedi. They have betrayed the Republic, betrayed _me_ and _you.”_ The Sith Lord says. “You just saw what Master Windu tried to do to me, and he practically leads the Jedi—they _all_ follow him, can’t you see?”

It is in this moment that Luminara knows that Palpatine has lost.

“No.” Anakin shakes his head on the spot. “She _didn’t have faith in the council._ She is like _me._ He ignites his lightsaber. “I won’t let you take my friend away from me.”

“Oh, Anakin, my boy.” There is an eerie, disappointed lull in the chancellor’s voice as he takes two steps back and presses a button on his comm.

“You’re _not his._ ” Luminara says, pushing herself back to her feet.

Anakin screams runs towards Palpatine with his lightsaber held high, the feral aggression of something beyond a Jedi. Luminara, knowing it will likely be the cause of her own demise, ignites the blade in her hand to join him and is surprised by the rush of power that fills her up, coming seemingly from the purple blade. Her eyes widen gently in surprise, but she wastes no more time before jumping into the battle herself.

Palpatine is quick to use the force to push them both away and lets out another torrent of lightning towards Luminara with a cackle of glee. She shrieks as it hits her, unprepared for the unimaginable pain it would cause her. His targeting of Luminara is a way to take Anakin’s attention off himself—to make his notorious over-feeling get in the way of his focus, and ultimately play on his weaknesses as he has been doing for so long.

The chancellor also knows that he is much safer from a distance, out of the range of Anakin’s weapon, and redirecting the younger man’s attention to Luminara keeps him at that distance.

The mistake, here, is that he seems to misunderstand quite how angry this would make Skywalker.

Powers channelled on the female Jedi, Palpatine doesn’t have time to redirect the flow of electricity to Anakin who dives onto him with eyes of crackling amber eyes.

Luminara passes out.

* * *

She wakes up in a cruiser that is not her own, though she is not alone. Obi-Wan is sat by her bedside making some sort of notes on a flimsipad.

The mirialan woman coughs gently to make her presence known and the starts to gently push herself up to a sitting position—Obi-Wan being quick to put the pad aside and lean forward to help her. Her mind feels scrambled and she can’t for the life of her figure out how she got here of what just happened, so just looks to the man next to her questioningly. “You were only out about an hour but then you fell back asleep, so we figured we’d leave you be.” Obi-Wan says, and it answers very few of her questions, but the past day’s events are starting to come back to her. “How are you feeling?”

She blinks slowly and shakes her head. “I don’t…where’s Skywalker? And, are we—I mean, how did we get here? _Why_ are we here…where are we going?”

“He’s fine…mostly. We’re all…it’s been rough.” Obi-Wan says. “He’s on the bridge with Padmé. They…well, the chancellor’s dead, Luminara, though he let out this order before he died and…well the Jedi have taken an enormous hit but—well, I’ll tell you more later. The war is over.”

“What’s happening in the senate now the chancellor’s dead?” She asks.

“Well…” Obi-Wan sighs. “No one’s quite sure, yet. My allegiance is to democracy, of course, and Senator Amidala has temporarily taken up Palpatine’s position to try and calm the chaos, something certainly won’t last long given her condition, and I’m afraid it isn’t working. The galaxy is in disarray and I…I struggle to see any long-term democratic solution for it.”

Luminara’s head still feels a little fuzzy but that doesn’t stop her absorbing everything Obi-Wan tells her. “I feel like you’re implying something here but I’m not quite awake enough to see it.”

“Anakin has an alternate suggestion.” Obi-Wan says, pausing and gently running his hand through his hair. “In lieu of an effective democratic system he’s suggesting something…well, he’s suggesting fascism.”

“That…” Luminara has to take a moment to make sure she’s hearing him properly again. “With who in power?”

“I only spoke to him for a little while before he went back to the senate with Padmé but there was mention of a select party headed by Anakin himself. He…told me what happened and I sensed so much anger in him but, strangely, something resembling calm too? I think he’s being serious and part of me wants to desperately protest to this regime but, if I’m being honest, I see no better option at the moment. If nothing else, I believe he’ll bring about a semblance of order and until we have that our current system isn’t sustainable.”

Luminara frowns. “You mean you support his ideas?”

“I—I don’t know—no, philosophically. But right now, I feel very scattered.” Obi-Wan bites his lip. “I’ve been mixed up in politics so long I sometimes wonder if there is such thing as a right or wrong way to do things anymore. Neither way is ideal, but if Anakin can bring order and then relinquish power once everything is settled then…then I think his plan may be the only real way forward.”

“He’s so confused.” Luminara almost whispers. “His intentions are genuine I’m sure, but he’s barely grown from a child. He can’t do this on his own—it’s not is responsibility.”

“He _is_ the Chosen One. Perhaps this is what the force intended for him all along.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” She bites her lip. “No, not at all. We should be there, Obi-Wan. Senator Amidala will be otherwise occupied soon enough, we can’t leave him to this alone. He needs us with him.”

After a long second Obi-Wan nods, though it seems almost grudging. “I know. And I want to help him, he is my brother and I could never abandon him but…”

“But?”

“But I’m _tired,_ Luminara.” His eyes meet hers. “I’m _exhausted._ I’ve been fighting this war for as long as I can remember without a moment to take a breath and I have barely had a chance to _think_ with everything that’s happening now and I just…” He looks away. “Maybe it was a little foolish, but I always had this image of what life would be like after the war was over, about what we were all fighting and dying for. A dream, I suppose, of peace and serenity and _freedom_ , for once, to choose what _I_ want but…” Obi-Wan smiles sadly. “But I suppose that is not to be.”

Luminara leans forwards and cups his cheek with her tattooed hand, tilting his head up closer to her own. “I’m sorry, love. I wish things could be different too. I wish I could give you what you want, I you lived in some untouched corner of the outer rim where you’d never even heard the word ‘war’ but that is not what the force wanted for us.” She falters, her expression softening. “That said, this is a time of change. We may not be able to have everything but…” She leans in further and kisses his cheek. “Something, at least?”

He smiles, taking her other hand and squeezing it. “Something.”

**Author's Note:**

> pls comment if u enjoyed ! it's like cr ack to me lolol <3


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